


Daily Musings

by TheHuggamugCafe



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series), Persona 5, Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Bondage, Childhood Friends, Corrupt!Arsène, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Girlfriend/Boyfriend, Human!Alastor, Ice Cream Shenanigans, Jealousy, Murder, Nipple Licking, Partners in Crime, Reader-Insert, Set during the early 1930s, Soulmates, Teasing, husband/wife, incubus!Ren, noblewoman!Reader, reincarnated lovers, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:26:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26385610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: Hibiki doesn’t have the heart to tell you “no.”
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader, Amamiya Ren/Reader, Arsène (Persona 5)/Reader, Kurusu Akira/Reader, Kuze Hibiki/Reader, Persona 5 Protagonist/Reader, Protagonist (Devil Survivor 2)/Reader, Protagonist (Devil Survivor 2)/Reader/Shijima Daichi
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41





	1. Hibiki KuzexReader: Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hibiki doesn’t have the heart to tell you “no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _She wraps those hands around that pole_   
>  _She licks those lips and off we go_   
>  _She takes it off nice and slow_   
>  _‘Cause that’s porn star dancing_   
>  _She don’t play nice; she makes me beg_   
>  _She drops that dress around her legs_   
>  _And I’m sitting right by the stage_   
>  _With this porn star dancing_   
>  _Your body’s lighting up the room_   
>  _I want a naughty girl like you_   
>  _Let’s throw a party just for two_   
>  _You know those normal girls won’t do_
> 
> Porn Star Dancing (Extended Version)
> 
> Performed by Darkest Days; sung by Zakk Wylde feat. Ludacris and Chad Kroger
> 
> I do _not_ own the song above nor am I associated with the music industry in any way, shape or form. I just thought that the song fit the mood. And damn if I wasn’t in a mood.
> 
> Please note that the rating is subject to change as this collection continues.

The way you’re moving is simply _enchanting_.

What had begun as you simply humming along to the song from your earbuds has resulted in you jumping up from your cross-legged position, shrugging off the jacket that’s a part of your school uniform, and tossing it onto your bed without thought nor concern for where it’ll land. Your leggings were quick to follow and if it weren’t for you too busy being off in your world, so to speak, he would’ve turned pale and left your room altogether.

 _Of course, she’s receiving lessons. She has a paid tutor; it’s to be expected,_ Hibiki Kuze thinks, icy blue eyes fixed on your swaying hips and watching as the hem of your shirt—the shirt that’s part of your school uniform, oddly enough—rides up to show him a teasing hint of your lower back. He catches a momentary glance of your stomach when you turn around, eyes closed and belting out the song that’s playing on your laptop, singing in English without a single care in the world.

You’re blissfully ignorant of your friend’s longing stare; you’re unaware of Hibiki having caught a peek of your lower back, and now your stomach, thanks to your shirt riding up high enough for him to see when you turn about-face. His Adam’s Apple bobs up and down as he swallows; the gulp is thick, catching in his esophagus. And yet he does nothing but simply stays where he is: sitting at the table that’s the centre for your study session with him and Daichi, the latter who is currently not present.

A part of him, and a _big_ part of him that suddenly feels like a greedy child, is quietly glad that his—and yours—childhood friend isn’t present to see you in the here and now.

“Y/N, what are you—” That’s all he’s able to get out before your hand reaches for his, before your palm and fingers are locked with his as he’s part dragged, part gets up on his own accord. You’re still singing in English, but you’ve opened your eyes, looking up at him with a smile that’s so beautiful, so radiant that he swears his heart skips a few beats. “Dance with me, Hibi~,” You say, cooing the nickname you’ve saddled him with since you were kids.

He isn’t blushing, of course not. He coughs, making a mental note to remind you that having your heater on all the time isn’t a good thing. Preoccupied by his thoughts he notices too late that you’re already back to swaying your hips, letting the song roll off of your lips in a lazy hum. He follows your lead as best as he can, granting you his silent permission to take possession of his free hand, guiding him into the rhythm of a new song. The music coming from your laptop is slow, sounding romantic to his ears, but there’s something _more_ in the air.

And you’re oblivious to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been so constantly and consistently bummed over not writing lately, I did not want to go on yet another hiatus.
> 
> So, as the title suggests, this will (eventually) be a collection of the thoughts that hit me throughout the day.
> 
> I hope that through this, I will be more successful in wading through the swamp of writer’s block.
> 
> Please look forward to chapter two, dears!


	2. Incubus!RenxReader: Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Two scoops are always better than one, RenRen.”
> 
> He’s inclined to agree with your logic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the idea for this particular musing came to me as I was savouring my journey, slowly, through a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream.
> 
> “Waste not, want not,” that’s what I always say.
> 
> Do enjoy, my dears!

“Oh _mama_ , have I been looking forward to this all day!”

The sight that greets your friend, your partner in crime, and your boyfriend, Ren Amamiya, is a treat for his eyes and only his eyes as you pivot on your heels, shooting him a beaming grin as you hum, clearly pleased.

Lukewarm onyx eyes watch as your tongue darts out past your lips, wasting little time in lapping at the cool treat. It’s your favourite flavour, topped off with a light drizzle of caramel, nuts, and a single cherry polish the two scoops off.

You’re quick to lick it again and he finds himself watching. Watching the way your tongue languidly laps at the frozen dessert. Watching the way your eyes seem to glow with content, breathing a noise that’s suspiciously close to a moan as it reaches him.

It’s a noise he’s become _more_ than accustomed hearing from you by now, needless to say.

“Mmm, hey, Ren. Wanna lick?”

Your offer pulls him free from his thoughtful stupor, blinking as his vision flicks to the ice cream cone you’re holding in your hand, extended towards him in a silent offering. He eyes the way the melting ice cream trails over the crispy cone; it matches the line of cream just above your upper lip, something which you’re quick to lick away.

He swallows; the gulp is thick. It, the gulp, sticks at the back of his esophagus like a thick ball of wax before finally, at long last, he looks away for the briefest moment. _Heat_ hits him with the force of an invisible blow to his chest, his stomach, robbing him of oxygen as sweat breaks out across his face.

Neither of the sensations—the heat coiling inside or the sweat dripping down his face, the nape of his neck—have anything to do with the ungodly summer heat.

Finally, _finally_ , after feigning interest in a rather boring advertisement for a limited time summer offer for a diner special, he ogles you in his peripheral vision. “No, thank you,” He says, practically breathing the words in a husky whisper.

“Are you suuuure? It’s really good~.”

He laughs, but it’s so soft that you have to strain your ears to hear it. There’s _warmth_ in his chuckle; it stabs needles along the curve of your spine; it rekindles _fire_ in your belly. But you swallow your desires, literally, and hum while eyeing him curiously.

“I’m sure. You enjoy it twice as much for me, okay, sweetheart?” You shrug your shoulders; you don’t mention the telltale purr that clings to your devilish darling’s voice, quite literally so. “More for me, none for you,” You say, singing the words teasingly.

You’re quick to lap at the melting treat once again, humming in pure content as the ice cream dances on your taste buds.

_Ah, but there is no treat sweeter than **you** , my dear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please look forward to chapter three.


	3. Human!AlastorxReader: Prey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“You’re my beautiful prey.”_
> 
> Tonight, your husband has finally decided to claim what’s rightfully his: your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I took the pistol and shot out all the lights_   
>  _I started runnin’ in the middle of the night_   
>  _The law ain’t never been a friend of mine_   
>  _I would kill again to keep from doing time_   
>  _You should never, ever trust my kind_   
> 
> 
> _I’m a wanted man_   
>  _I got blood on my hands_   
>  _Do you understand?_   
>  _I’m a wanted man_   
> 
> 
> _If you ask me to change_   
>  _I don’t know if I can_   
>  _I’ll always be who I am_   
>  _I’m a wanted man_
> 
> I’m A Wanted Man by Royal Deluxe

“Please,” You say, the pleading whine edging your voice; desperation is your thread and his eyes, his grinning smile is the needle that will puncture it, puncture _you_. “ _Please_ , Al,” You speak again, eyes filling up with hot tears as you watch, terrified beyond all imagination, as he idly twirls the knife he’s holding.

“You knew that this night would come sooner or later, didn’t you, my sweet little fawn?” Faux affection is in his voice and underneath the dim glower of moonlight, his glasses—and his dark eyes—shimmer as he steps into the moonlight you are currently bathed in.

For a moment, a single moment that’s as terrible as it is wonderful, you’re reminded of how beautiful his eyes are. They’re dark, so abysmal in hue that you can only think of the reflective surface of water, shining the moonlight and your fearful eyes back into his grinning leer.

He takes a single step forward and when he does, your flight-or-fight instincts are kicked into overdrive. The silver glare of the moon makes the cold sweat breaking out across your crown glimmer ever so softly, making strands of your hair stick to your feverish skin. Your heart is racing so fast now, beating like a songbird’s wings as it takes flight, you wonder if you’ll suffer a heart attack just from the fear he’s injecting into your veins with his stare alone.

There’s a part of you that hopes that will be the case. You’d much rather die of heart failure than to be reacquainted with the cold kiss of steel, courtesy of his favourite knife.

But just like everything that’s ever happened to you since you met him, Alistair McCarthy, you aren’t granted even the smallest dose of clemency. You breathe a gasp as the knife ghosts over your cheek, drifting languidly down your hot flesh to trace the curve of your jaw.

“Now don’t you fret, darling,” Alistair whispers to you as he leans in, the corners of his smiling lips lifting to bare his perfect teeth to you; if you’re the cornered lamb, then he’s the wolf. The way he’s speaking to you now, sounding so sweet and charming, you see how he’s managed to fool the people of New Orleans as well as he has. “Out of all of my victims, past and present, _you_ will be the one I will take the most delight in ruining.”

The dark promise in his words is enough to take you aback, enough for you not to notice that he’s stabbed you in the chest, exactly where your heart is. You choke out a gasp. The stench of copper is almost overwhelming to you. Crimson kisses your lips. The pain is like nothing else you’ve ever experienced and, as though to mock you in your final moments, Alistair raises a hand.

The feeling of leather cupping a flushed and sweating cheek, the feeling of gloved fingers tenderly brushing your hair, is the closest to heaven you will possibly get. The tears distorting your vision to a blurry kaleidoscope of colours spill down your cheeks, licking the line of your jaw and stain the collar of your blouse. The tiny droplets are soon eclipsed by the pool of blood that spreads, dyeing the bland white of your top a deep, dark red.

You hiccup, reduced to nothing more than a pleading, sobbing mess as your husband leans in so close, a few inches are all that separates your lips stained in red from knowing the soft warmth of his. He leans in closer, tilting his head so that his mouth brushes against the shell of your ear.

“I’ll see you in hell, darling.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, the rating for this collection sure was bumped up rather quickly, wasn’t it?
> 
> Still do not own the deer man’s human name. Full rights and deepest thanks goes to BambinaMio.


	4. Akira KurusuxReader: Cuddles and Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rainy morning won’t stop Akira from showering you in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven’t been up long. I also haven’t had any tea to perk me up.
> 
> But then my dopey mind pretty much bitch slapped me with this thought.
> 
> And it was far too adorable to pass up.

A sleepy hum is what pulls you from the realm of dreams, slowly but gently tugging you into the waking world. A yawn pulls on your lips as you pry open your eyes. You raise a hand, knuckles rubbing at the sleep crusting to your lashes.

A head of frizzy black hair is the first thing to greet you; a pair of dopey onyx eyes are the second thing to quietly bid you a good morning; a pair of soft and warm lips pressing to yours is the third, and final, thing to greet you.

“Good morning, Treasure.” His voice is deep and husky, lips curling to shoot you a gentle smile. You mutter a good morning greeting, the covers you’re cocooned in shifting as you move, wanting to be closer to your husband of a full year, Akira Kurusu.

Overhead, the rain plays heavy musical notes on the roof, followed by the distant rumble of thunder. Once again the covers shift as Akira moves, slipping a bare arm under and around your waist, fingers languidly dancing a waltz over your hips as his lips press slow kisses to your cheek, your jaw.

For what seems like forever, you’re content to simply lay where you are: wrapped in blankets and the warm embrace of your spouse, being showered in silent displays of the love he has for you. You breathe a barely-there giggle, raising a hand to take Akira’s hand in yours; there’s a clear difference in his hand and yours, the latter easily eclipsed by the former.

A series of careful but thorough kisses being pressed to your knuckles before, finally, a smooch to the jewellery wrapped around your ring finger, a simple gold band with a diamond shining prettily on the top, polishes Akira’s display of affection off.

You smile, breathing a happy hum as you shift closer, moving to rest your head on Akira’s chest. He shifts as well, the covers rustling as he moves, but his free hand settles on your back, keeping you close as his heartbeat thrums in your ear, steady and calm.

“Residents living in Shibuya can expect it to rain all day, tapering off early tomorrow morning. It is advised to drive safely should you be going out today. Now, onto other news…”

The announcement from the radio, showing the time as 7:05 blinking back at you in red numbers, goes largely ignored by you and your husband. “We’re not going anywhere today, darling,” Akira says, earning a silent nod and a soft mutter of agreement from you. Today is Sunday, so it being your day off, you have no need to go out unless you absolutely must.

“I’m happy to stay here with you.”

The smile you feel as Akira blesses your crown with a kiss is a good way to start your rainy morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> …
> 
> …
> 
> …
> 
> Sooo… About that tea…
> 
> I do hope you, dear reader, enjoyed this morning fluff.


	5. Corrupt!human!ArsènexReader: Rope of Fate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The eyes that leer at you from above are crimson.
> 
> The hands stroking your hot, shivering body are clad in red leather.
> 
> The stench shoved up your nose reeks of warm copper.
> 
> The rope he loves to tie you up in is red.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Inhale._
> 
> …
> 
> _Exhale._
> 
> …
> 
> Corrupt!Arsène as a human _and_ Reader’s soulmate? _**And**_ tossing them into a reincarnated lovers verse?
> 
> Why, hello there, two of my biggest guilty pleasures; meet this hot and terrible, awful bastard!
> 
> Hope you three get along splendidly~.

“Now don’t pout. It doesn’t suit your beautiful face, _mon amour_.”

A hearty chuckle from above is the response you earn as you do so regardless. The pout possessing your face is complemented by the huff that leaves you, watching the crimson leer of the thief above you. A thoughtful hum leaves him; you hear it thrumming deep in his chest, rumbling at the back of his throat.

It, the hum, can almost be likened to a purr of approval as a finger clad in red strokes your cheek. The silver glare of moonlight pouring into your bedroom on the right is enough to gently highlight him; a play of light and shadow is conducted across the thief’s figure.

And yet… And yet…

The stench of warm copper is shoved up into your nose, forcing you to take the scent into your lungs when you inhale. The smell is both light and heavy, making you woozy for a few moments. “ _But_ ,” Arsène says, practically hissing the word as he leans in; the most poisonous of snakes can’t hope to match the venom that’s tainting his speech pattern. A chuckle leaves him, lips curling to a smile that’s almost pleased. Almost. “…I think this look suits you better, don’t you? Much more appealing than that distasteful dress you were wearing earlier on in the eve.”

For emphasis, Arsène tugs on the ropes wrapped around your chest, tied enough so that your breasts are practically pushing up through the thin cotton nightdress you’re wearing. You hitch in a breath; the ropes are biting into your skin, and you know that you’ll bear the brunt of his affections in the form of bruises come tomorrow.

“You seemed to be quite _interested_ in that suitor your father had you meet tonight, _Trésor_.” Sweat forms on your crown, dripping down the flushed skin of your cheeks; you feel warm moisture roll down your back in the form of beads. Despite the warm summer evening, you feel _cold_ ; the flesh of your forearms crawl with the sensation of gooseflesh.

You’re not terrified, you’re not scared; you have no sound rhyme nor reason to be fearful of your dear thief, Arsène. You are nothing like the poor, unfortunate fools who’ve received a calling card from him, detailing how their hearts will be stolen from them by his hand, personally.

The red that has long since soaked his gloves, gloves that you know were white once upon a time, is proof of his abilities as a phantom thief. The criminals who he eyed from afar, planning his heists down to the most minuscule of details, would always be found with their chests ripped open, carved into with surgical precision, missing that bleeding organ that once gave them life.

But you know that Arsène has been eyeing your father for quite some time now. Your father, Masayoshi Shido, is a criminal through and through. There is some part of you, a malignant side of you that you hide behind plastic smiles and false kindness, that acknowledges you will not miss him when your father’s life is ended, brought to its conclusion—rather violently, you note with a malicious delight—by the thief’s hands.

A part of you wonders if you’ll get to see it. That very same part of you _wants_ to see your father’s finale. You wish to see the life fade from his eyes. You want to see him _suffer_. What irony would it be to see a man who’s caused suffering for countless others to suffer himself?

“I was,” You pause, steeling yourself to answer as the thief tugs on the ropes keeping your legs spread open; he breathes a noise of curiosity into your ear, reaching down to play with the wet folds between your legs through the thin cotton barrier of your panties. You breathe in and out, slowly, shakily, eyes never leaving the twin rubies looking down at you. He’s patient, patient enough to at least hear you out. “I was simply playing my part—”

A second, slightly harsher tug on the ropes accentuating your breasts silences you; a wanton mewl is ripped from your throat. “ _Nnh_. Arsène, what are you—” A third tug shuts you up; your nipples poke through the thin nightdress. You exhale sharply as the thief is quiet as the hand he’s been using to pull, to toy with the red ropes is raised, pulling down the v-shaped collar of your nightgown.

Your cheeks bloom with a heavy blush as your breasts are exposed to the warm air; you pant the thief’s name as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking harshly. Arsène leans away with a short but sharp _pop_ of his lips after a few moments. Strings of saliva coat the rosy bud, which he’s quick to roll and pinch between his leathery fingers that stink of blood.

“How many times must I tell you this?” The thief murmurs, looking at you as he speaks. In the darkness he sits in, darkness that is broken only by the dim glower of moonlight, his eyes glow like twin flames. There’s several emotions in his voice, in his leer: jealousy, possessiveness, ire, love and lust.

“You’re _**mine**_ , _chérie_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forget red strings of fate; make way for red _ropes_ of fate.
> 
> A massive shout out of my deepest, most heartfelt thanks goes to my amazing friend, DragonsInkWell (Lafrenze), for giggling about a scenario like this with yours truly a while back.
> 
> I may write a spiritual sequel to this musing, provided the interest in it is there.


	6. Hibiki KuzexReaderxDaichi Shijima: Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Once again, Hibiki finds himself distracted by your dancing at the worst possible time.
> 
> But this time, he isn’t the only one to witness it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mm, _boy_ , do I love it when there is some good competition between two childhood friends and Reader, yessir!
> 
> Please note that this musing is rated T.

As always the way your body moves as you dance is like _witchcraft_.

Even in the heat of battle, _literally_ , the way you move makes him wonder if the deities of dance are silently commanding you to sway your hips, to tap your feet, and move to their unspoken whims in an attempt to appease them.

Sweat drips from your crown and your cheeks are flushed, but even that doesn’t seem to stop you from smiling, looking as carefree as you always do when you begin dancing. A fairy-looking demon floats up to where you’re idling, near the stage where the happy-go-lucky businessman is watching the fight unfold.

Hibiki feels an emotion rising up inside him: worry. His icy gaze watches you in his peripheral vision, never straying from you as an airy giggle leaves the lips of the Pixie. There’s electricity in the air, and as if confirming his worst fear with validation, he sees arcs of lightning curling around the Pixie’s hands that are clad in blue.

Your name forms in his mouth; your nickname is ready to roll off of his tongue. However, movement out the corner of his eye makes him focus on his own fight for the time being. Thankfully, his demon is equipped with the Zio skill, and the enemies facing him, a Kobold and a Poltergeist, have already been weakened due to their encounter with Io and her demons.

By the time the Kobold’s been struck down by the icy-eyed college student landing a solid blow, and a Zio has dispatched the Poltergeist, he’s back to silently worrying about you; he’s concerned for Daichi and for Io, of course, but his quiet anxiety for you eclipses everything else. He watches as the tiny blue ghost releases a squeal, disappearing in a hissing black mist before his attention is brought back to you.

It is nothing short of a sorely welcomed relief to see that you’re alive, that you’re unharmed. In fact, your strongest demon, Tam Lin, guarded you, taking the brunt of the physical attack in your place. Little wonder that you’re smiling right now; you’re _smirking_ , he knows you are. Your eyes are dancing with dark laughter, lips curling to a small grin that reeks of mockery.

Your foot taps the concrete, slowly, in a rhythm that matches the sway of your hips and the lazy hum that leaves your lips. Your eyes, your grin, they’re awash in hubris; in Hibiki’s eyes, your unwavering confidence is like a breath of fresh air. You may as well be singing: “I’ve got you _so_ beat, demon~.” A giggle leaves your lips and the air surrounding you spikes significantly, watching with a delight that’s almost sadistic as Tam Lin swings its lance around, readying to attack as you cast a fire-based skill.

Reddish-orange flames lick at the Pixie’s floating form. He’s forced to take in the stench of burnt cloth and skin. For a moment he _swears_ there’s a lingering aroma of boiling blood, but Hibiki dismisses the thought no sooner does it come to his mind.

The Pixie is dispatched with a death cry that as far as his ringing ears are concerned, sounds like nails running over a chalkboard. The icy-eyed college student does a quick but thorough once-over of the outdoor concert area, seeing no demons appearing.

“I-It’s over, right? We’re safe, right?”

Daichi’s wary questions are answered with a silent bob of Hibiki’s head, and his best friend—one of them, at least—is quick to collapse into an unoccupied seat, running a hand through his brunet hair. His friend is clearly exhausted, despite the relieved grin that’s blooming across his lips.

“Whew! Boy, am I glad that’s over—Io? Y/N? You two okay?”

The businessman descending the steps goes largely ignored by Hibiki. He focuses his gaze on you and Io; the busty brunette hops to an empty seat on your right, cradling the ankle that’s swollen once she’s sitting. Your brows furrow, lips pursed as the young man’s icy stare shifts between you, his dear childhood friend, and his acquaintance, Io Nitta.

“Are you gonna be okay, Nitta-san?” you ask, addressing Io like she’s your sister. “Oh, um… I’ll be okay. It doesn’t bother me much. But thank you for the concern, L/N-san.” _She says it’s not bothering her, but it’s clearly not the case,_ Hibiki thinks, watching you for a reaction. You nod, breathing a hum; you look about as unconvinced as he does, but nobody dares to prod the soft-spoken honour student.

Finally, _finally_ , you reply to Daichi’s question with a barely-there grin. “It’s no biggie; a demon got lucky. It scraped me during the fight, but I’m fine—” “Say _what_?!” Forgoing all pleasantries, the brunet reaches forward with his hands, turning over your arm to inspect the tear in your jacket. Hibiki’s eyes narrow, feeling an all too familiar emotion bubbling up inside him: jealousy.

The emotion, however, is quickly washed away when he spots red staining the tattered sleeve of your jacket. He doesn’t— _can’t_ —stop himself from exhaling sharply, not when he sees a hue of crimson making a stark contrast to the shirt underneath your jacket, the shirt that’s your favourite colour.

“It’s okay, Dai. Really,” you say, chuckling while waving a hand, bashful of your friend’s fretting. “No, it’s _not_ okay; you could’ve been seriously hurt! Dammit, if only we were close to a pharmacy or something…” “It’s fine, seriously. Nothing a Dia can’t cure, right? I appreciate your worry; it’s cute, coming from you.”

Hibiki wonders if you’re picking up on the subtle hints of electricity crackling in the air, when he and Daichi share a brief look. The warm-eyed brunet’s little grin is a direct counter to his icy-eyed, dark-haired friend’s pursed lips. A thoughtful hum from Io and another, short-lived bout of anxious chuckles from you breaks the silence, followed up by a hearty greeting from the businessman as he edges closer to the trio of college students.

“Hey, thanks for that. You kids totally saved my bacon back there. Name’s Yuzuru Akie. Call me Joe. So, what’s up with this demon summoning app that’s on my phone? I don’t remember installing it.”

You, Hibiki, Io, and Daichi all exchange a look, sounding more tuckered out than the fight has left you all feeling. You all breathe a collective sigh.

“Guess we gotta explain… Geez, what a pain.” Daichi exhales, scratching his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look forward to chapter 7, my dear customers.


End file.
